Blaue told me where to find a needle and some thread, a technology that no amount of scientific advancement could make obsolete. The thread was lime green, the color of universal warning, which I felt was approprite for stitching John back together.
Now I am far from a master seamstress or a surgeon, but home-ec in middle school taught me the basics. I have made my fair share of drawstrings bags, pillows, and shirts. I was fairly confident in my ability to weild a thread and needle. However, John was not as confident in my ability to stitch him up.
It seemed pretty straight forward to me. I was to stitch the different parts of skin together. John, however, made me redo his elbow three times, continously correcting me and telling me I was twisting his elbow wrong.
"You're going to give me a scar if you stitch like that," he said as I stitched his elbow the third time. "Do you want me to look like Frankenstein's monster?"
"You are Frankenstein's monster," I retorted. "I'm not stitching it again, and don't guys want battle scars?" John argued with me as I started to stitch his shoulder.
It was strange to stick a needle in him and see no response. John said he felt pain - or rather his body alerted him he was being injured - but that he could ignore it much better than a normal human. I supposed that was what made him such a good football player. He could literaly ignore the pain.
"Now your hand?" I asked when I finished his shoulder.
"No, do my knee," John answered. "You can really mess up my hand if you do it wrong. I want to watch you fix my knee before I let you touch my hand."
"You don't trust me," I grumbled as he pulled up his pants leg to reveal his skinless knee.
"I trust you are far as I can throw you," he answered. "Which is actually pretty far."
When John was satisfied I could sew well enough and wouldn't cause major damange to his hand, he allowed me to slowly set it up. I made no stitch without his approval. Sometimes he made me undo stitches and try again. However, in the end the stitches held as he gently flexed his hand.
"I'll need to get a glove or else I may accidently mess up the stitches," he said as he examined his hand. "You did a good job, Carlee."
"Of course I did a good job," I responded. "I always do a good job." John smiled at me and ruffled my hair with his good hand.
"Kid?" Blaue suddenly appeared in the room with a curious expression. "Is a kid not an infant goat?"
"It's also a word used to describe human children,"John answered. "It's a colloquialism." I rolled my eyes. Leave it to John to say "colloquialism" instead of describing it as slang.
"Most interesting," Blaue said. "I will add it to my database. On another note, I'm suppose to warn you that Ven is heading here. Family reunion time is about to be sadly ended."
"Oh, joy," John muttered. "Does he want anything in particular?"
"He wants to discuss your future," Blaue answered. "As much as I would love to keep you, this is not a permamanet arrangement. So Ven just wants to discuss options."
"Wonderful," I muttered, knowing it would probably just be another meeting where Ven tried to convince me to ditch John. When would he learn? I will never leave John.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
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